


The Sins of Creation

by Fyahlord, Timelad (Fyahlord)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, But not all doom and gloom, Depression, PTSD, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Post-Season/Series Finale, Prison Breaks, Still Doctor Who in spirit, The Doctor Opening up, The Fam helping the Doctor, The Master being his whacky self, Timeless Child, Trigger Warnings, Violence, lots of angst :), mentions of child deaths
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:47:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23078050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyahlord/pseuds/Fyahlord, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fyahlord/pseuds/Timelad
Summary: Life. As mundane and uneventful it can be, still goes on. Space battles, alien planets and a blonde time traveller, seem like far off dreams now. 2 years have passed since they had lost her, and the fam have fallen apart.But when a familiar face pops back into to their lives, it is time to get the gang back together and save The Doctor.This fic will explore the fallout of the season finale, focusing on the trauma The Doctor faces after uncovering the truth of her past as well as her time in prison.
Relationships: Friendship is the focus, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 32
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am still working on my other Doctor Who fic. But gosh darn that season final got my mind working and I couldn't help myself. I just want a post-season angst filled fic where the doctor has to deal with being in prison, being the timeless child, the master and all that great stuff.  
> Plus the fam dealing with the doctor being gone and thought to be dead. Now I don't want this to be a complete angst fest, there will be lighter moments, but atm is pretty dark.
> 
> But yeah let me know what yall think and I am currently writing chapter 6 of Road to Recovery. If your in 13 angst feel free to check that one out too.
> 
> This first chapter is pretty short. Kind of prologue teaser.

Chapter 1 – The Timeless Child

“Jesus Christ” the man rasps at the scene before him. He takes a deep heavy breath to keep himself from being sick.

“Detectives” he calls in the same stricken voice “Detectives!”.

Two people rush into the room. One of the detectives, an older man with a greying beard, pushes the officer aside, whilst the other, a young woman steps towards the scene.

“Good work son” the older detective gruffs, “Head back to the station we’ll take it from here”.

The officer, pale and sweaty nods franticly before, almost fleeing from the room.

The older detective watches the officer leave then turns to his partner.

“Jesus Christ” he says echoing the officer, though with less shock and more grave acceptance.

“Hmmm” hums the woman, already at work, crouched down and examining the scene.

In front of her lay the body of a child, mutilated and broken. The child, Susanne Wents, had been reported missing from school for 3 days by her year 4 teacher. Nothing happened. Then 2 days later her grandparents also called in. They had not seen Susanne for a week now, which was odd, as the little girl often walked to their house from school as they lived just across the street.

They reported it to the police after phoning the girls mother, Miss Amanda Went. They said Miss Went sounded strange and became hostile and evasive when they had asked about Susie. They had never liked Amanda and had no idea why their son ever got caught up with such a woman, but they tolerated her for Susie’s sake. Miss Went and their son had broken up years ago, around the time when Susie was a toddler. Their son was allowed to see Susie on the weekends and at family events. Now Miss Went lived with her new boyfriend, Tobias or Toby as he prefers. If they didn’t like Amanda then Toby was another story, they reviled him and knew if Susie was missing, he had something to do with it. 

Miss Went was not home when police went knocking, nor was Toby. An unmistakeable odour emanated from the house, giving them grounds to search without a warrant. The girl had been killed in her own house, and the police had a pretty good idea who the killers were.

“What kind of a parent could do this to their child” hisses the female detective finally getting to her feet.

Her partner says nothing.

With grim resolve they continue searching the house, taking down notes, pictures and evidence.

“I’ll give the coroners a call” the woman finally says as they do their last sweep of the house. The older detective doesn’t say anything.

The woman leaves the house, slumping tiredly onto a step on the front porch. Rubbing her face wearily she pulls out her phone.

“Hello, this is Detective Khan, we need someone to come down to 11 Pinestone Street and collect a body”.

* * *

Sparks fly off the shell of metal being welded, burning the welder’s hand.

“Ouch” the man hisses, recoiling his hand, knocking over a toolbox in the process.

“Oi, watch it Sinclair” a harsh voice barks, across the factory.

“Sorry, Sorry” Ryan Sinclair apologise, as an older portly man shakes his head and turns away.

“Fuck” Ryan grits under his breath, looking down at the throbbing burn on his hand. Third one this week, if he continues soon his fingers are going to melt off. He’s meant to wear gloves, but he works better without them, and the boss doesn’t seem to mind. As long as he doesn’t sue them for accidentally cutting of a thumb.

He carefully picks up the scattered toolbox, making sure not to flex his burnt hand too much. It’s difficult working with his left, his dyspraxia being more of a pain than usual. He can feel Phil’s (his manager) eyes on him as he struggles to even clean up a small mess.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’ Ryan can see out the corner of his eye, the man walking towards him.

“Sinclair” Phil calls again, somehow, he can make people flinch at their own name.

“Yeah Phil” Ryan says.

“Go home, take some time off” the older man replies, not unkindly, but not exactly comforting either.

“Phil...” Ryan groans, about to argue.

“Mate, I like you, you’re a good kid, but fuck mate, you need to get your head out of ya arse” Phil says, like he’s trying to give a motivational speech, but failing. “I can’t have you on my floor right now”.

“Fine” Ryan reluctantly relents and stalks off to his locker. He can feel the rest of the crew watching him as he leaves. Angrily he stuffs his safety jacket into his locker and chucks on a plain black hoodie.

“Cya mate” some people say to him on his way out. But most remain silent.

He doesn’t go home straight away, he knows Graham will be there, and ask why he is home so early. And that is a conversation he doesn’t want to have yet. As he wanders around town, two cop cars scream past him as he heads towards a local pub. He watches them disappear around a corner, their sirens wailing further and further away. He feels a slight pang in his chest as they go, reminding him of someone he use to know.

The pub is mostly empty, seeing it is only 2:15, a few old men sit around the bar and a young woman serves drinks.

On one TV a soccer game plays, some of the men around the bar grunt in displeasure when a team scores. On the other TV a handsome news reporter looks solemnly at the camera.

“It has been 8 days since anyone has last seen Susanne…” The voice trails off as the men around the bar let out a cheer as their team scores a penalty.

Ryan finds a seat at a table and settles in for the rest of the day.

* * *

Far away beyond this galaxy, a woman wakes up screaming.

“Shut up” a voice snarls, as the woman shivers, from her nightmare. A retort dies on her tongue, as she shakily stumbles to her feet.

The bruises from the day before are healing, but her body aches fiercely. Flashes of the dream still play in her mind; she tries to grasp onto them before they fade completely. The dream… no the memories have become a part of a nightly ritual. Many new faces now appear in her dreams. Confused and frightened children scream out in pain. Lives she never knew, ripped away from her.

She wouldn’t normally sleep, but her captors have been drugging her asleep since her arrival, long ago. They drug her so she has just enough strength to be put to work during the day.

“Against the wall prisoner” the voice snaps, as two enormous guards’ barge into the cell. The prisoner puts her hands up mockingly and lazily leans against the wall.

“Hand against the wall!” the guard barks, storming over to her. Before she can comply, he has a hold of her, slamming her face into the wall and pinning her hands above her head.

“Alright, alright” she pants, “no need to get handsy, geez”. It’s hard to breathe as he pushes a knee into her back, holding her in place, as his other hand pats her down. The faded blue jump suit roughly rubs against her cuts and bruises as he aggressively searches her.

“Bit rough aren’t we mate” she hisses as he finally lets her go.

A shove forward tells her it is time to shut up. “Get to work” the other guard commands, slapping chains around her frail wrists and leading her out the cell door.

She struggles to walk forward, her body is weak, and her mind is growing weaker. How long had she been here now? 1 year? 10? 100? 1000?

Is this what has become of the Timeless Child? The demi-god whom Gallifrey was built from? Nothing more than a memory, lost to time and space.


	2. Time is Limited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Chapter 2, let me know what ya think :)

**Chapter 2 – Time is Limited**

It had been a very long day, for detective Yasmin Khan. Harrowing and long.

It was days like this she regretted moving from being a PC to a detective. The truly bad days that made a person stay up all night, afraid of what they might see if they closed their eyes. The body of the girl had been taken away, and a few hours later her mother had been found, hiding out in a drug den. Toby had yet to be found, but interrogating the mother was bad enough.

Hours of back and forth. “Are you telling me my daughter is dead?” “I didn’t kill her!” “It was an accident”. The woman was running them around in circles, never giving them a straight answer. Yaz was at the end of her nerve, it took all her will power not to jump over the table and throttle the woman.

“Khan, go take a break, get a meal or better yet get a drink” her partner Dean, says as they step out of the interrogation room “Let her sit for a while, we can try again in a bit”.

“No, we’ve got her Dean, I think if we try from this angle...”

“Khan, we’ve been at it for four hours, the woman is whacked out of her brain, let her sober up and then we can try again” he presses, putting a warm hand on her shoulder.

She relents and lets him steer her into the station’s mess room.

“I’m going to have a drink and smoke, need to clear my head” Dean sighs wearily, they had been up since the wee hours of the morning.

“Hmmm” Yaz hums, not much for words these days.

“Want to join?” Dean offers, pulling on a large coat.

“Hmmm” Yaz says again but follows the older man.

It’s night-time. When they had started at the house it had been the crack of dawn, and the police had arrested Amanda around 2ish. Yaz hadn’t even noticed the time fly by.

The air is crisp, a bone chilling breeze ruffles her hair as she pulls her coat tighter around herself.

They hop into Dean’s car. No small talk is attempted on their journey. That was one of the things she liked best about Dean, he understood that silence did not always need to be filled. The silence helped. It helped Yaz not think about a certain traveller with a mouth that could run a mile a minute. No silence was good, and Dean was a good mate. Even if he was a little gruff.

They pull up to a small local pub, a place frequented by many detectives and cops. Because of that, it has quite a good reputation. Not the kind of place a bar fight would break out or a drug deal would go down. Which was perfect for tonight, as Yaz didn’t really feel like dragging any drunks downtown. Though things don’t always work out the way you want them to.

The pair of hardened, sleep depraved detectives enter the mostly quiet pub. A few people are there to watch a game of rugby, but their team is losing, so cheering is at a low. Some construction workers, still in uniform slouch at the bar.

“Ah shite the missus is gonna kill me” Yaz hears one of the construction workers groan, as he polishes off a pint.

“You daft fucker, stop drinkin so much then” one of his mates huffs, as the complaining man stumbles to his feet.

“Fuck off” the first man grumbles and wanders off to the bathroom, swaying slightly on his feet. He catches eye of the two detectives and straightens his posture and steadies his walk.

“Evening Dean” the bartender greets as they sit down at the bar “oh Khan you’re here, been awhile”.

Yaz offers a tight-lipped smile and a nod.

“Two whiskeys and cokes please” Dean tells the bartender, whose making their drinks before Yaz can object.

“Deannnn” she groans.

“What, we both need something to take the edge off” Dean protests.

The drinks are in their hands in seconds, Dean takes a hearty gulp, enjoying the slight burn as it goes down. Yaz reluctantly sips hers, throwing Dean dirty looks and not admitting she was enjoying the drink.

“So, what’s up with you?” Dean says, uncharacteristically more empathetic than usual.

“What do you mean” Yaz replies slowly, taking a nervous sip.

“You know what I mean” he swallows his own sip, looking straight ahead.

“I thought we have had enough of interrogations today” she tries to make it come off as a joke, but years of being a detective Dean knows when someone is deflecting.

“You if you don’t want to talk about, you don’t want to talk about it, I get that” he goes on “but if you can’t admit to yourself, something is wrong, then you’re just fooling yourself”.

They both take deep sips after that.

“That is oddly deep and poetic for you Dean” Yaz muses with a slight smile.

“I have my moments” he nods his head in a mockingly smug manner.

He then looks at her in serious regard “Look Khan, today was pretty rough, I know we’ve dealt with bad shit before, but you’ve seemed off, even before today and I just wanted to make sure you were alright”.

Dean looks at her with such conviction and compassion, she sees another older man looking at her. Her and the older man are on a spaceship, and he tell her she’s the best person he’s ever met.

“Ah shit Khan I didn’t mean to make you cry” Dean’s voice pulls her out of the memory.

“What” Yaz stammers “Oh”, she hastily rubs the tears away “No, it wasn’t you, I was just…”

She pauses for a moment looking for the right words.

“It’s just” she begins in a shaky voice “a few years ago I lost someone very important to me… and the anniversary of it is coming up”.

They sit in silence for a while. Sipping the rest of their drinks.

“Want another one?” Dean offers as they drain the last of the glass.

“Sure” Yaz gives a watery chuckle.

They spend the next hour or so mostly in silence. A few of the construction workers come over to talk to them, buying them both drinks for their ‘good work’.

“Heard you… heard you found the girl” one of them rasps.

Yaz’s mouth goes dry, but Dean older and more experienced professional steers the conversation away from the dead girl.

As Dean and one of the workers chat casually about the rugby game, a loud smash breaks the quiet discussions. A glass… no a few glasses have been knocked onto the floor, by a patron sitting by themselves in a corner of the room. Yaz hadn’t noticed them when she came in. Around them sits a small collection of empty glasses, most had managed to stay on the table.

The man, dressed in a dark hoodie, grumbles something and tries to stand.

“Fuck sake” Yaz hears the bartender mutter, before he rushes over to help clean up.

“I goot tt” the man slurs trying to push the bartender away and picks the shattered glass up in his hands, immediately cutting himself.

“Christ on a bike son” the bartend snaps “You’re now bleeding all over me floor”.

“I don nee your help” the man grits, giving the bartender a now more aggressive shove. That gets Yaz on her feet.

“Get out” the bartender yells at the man, shoving him back as equally hard. The man nearly topples over the table and sends more glasses tumbling to the floor.

“Heyyy” the man slurs, trying to steady himself.

“I got this Jim” Yaz offers, standing between the drunk and the bartender Jim.

She goes to help the man regain his footing…

“Ryan?”

She loses her grip and the man, Ryan, fall on his butt, narrowly missing the broken glass.

“Owwww” he groans in a rather pathetic voice.

Yaz stares at her former friend dumbfounded, not quite sure what to do.

“Yashhh?” Ryan questions, squinting drunkenly as he stares up at her. There is a brief pause between them, where neither do or say anything. They gaze at each. The kind of look you give when you think you see someone you know but cannot be sure.

“Here” Yaz offers a hand out to Ryan.

“I don’t want you’re help” he snaps, sounding almost sober. He pushes her hand away and shakily gets to his feet.

“Yaz?” Dean questions, appearing behind her, almost out of thin air. He gives her a look ‘I got your back if you need me’ and hovers like a shadow.

“It’s alright Dean” she waves him away, Dean doesn’t move.

Ryan in the meantime stumbles towards the door, his bloody hand dripping on the floor.

“Hey, hey who’s going to pay for those glasses?” Jim calls after him, but it falls on deaf ears, as Ryan nearly falls out the door.

“Dean can I borrow your car?” Yaz asks, rounding on Dean with more energy than he’s seen in a while.

“Wha- Why?” Dean looks at her confused.

“I want to make sure that guy gets home safe, then I’ll bring it back, please” internally she cringes at the please. She sounds like a child not a battle worn detective.

Dean stares at her, mouth agape, he rubs his greying hair like he’s trying to process what she’s saying.

“I, uh, so let me get this straight, you want to borrow my Mercedes, to drive some drunk stranger home, who seems to want nothing to do with you?” he eventually stammers out.

“Yes” Yaz nods, eyes set and determined.

Dean lets out along breath of air, the rubbing on the back of his head continues.

“Sure…” he relents “But!” he adds as she does a little silent ‘Yesssss’ “if he pukes or bleeds all over my car, you’re paying for it… and you have to come pick me up around 11… and don’t touch the air con… and don’t”.

“Thanks Dean” Yaz smiles, before he can finish and swipes the keys out of his hands.

“AND DON’T MESS WITH MY SEAT!” he yells as she rushes out the door.

She expects to chase Ryan down the street, even in his drunken state she was sure he would have marched off… as far away from her as possible.

What she didn’t expect was to find him, half passed out lying on a pile of rubbish bags.

“Hey” she says, softly knocking his foot with her own.

He doesn’t look up, but mumbles “Go away”.

“Look can I at least drive you home?” she presses, knocking his foot again.

“I’m good here” he huffs, snuggling deeper into the pile of trash.

“You know you’re lying in trash, right?”

“Yep”

“And rats will probably start crawling over it soon, right?”

Ryan for a drunk man with dyspraxia leaps up with surprising grace. Though the high-pitched shriek left much to be desired, Yaz bites back a laugh. They’re not mates anymore, laughing at each other’s embarrassment was not on the tables. Even without laughing Ryan shoots her a glare, stuffing his bleeding hands in his pockets sullenly.

“Fine” he finally says, as if getting a ride home with her was nothing less than torture.

Yaz just nods. When he stumbles over a trash bag, Yaz offers him a hand which he promptly ignores. They walk to the car in silence.

Ryan lets out a long whistle when he sees the black Mercedes. “So, this is what never seeing your friends or family gets you” he scorns mockingly “man I should hop on the bandwagon”.

“It’s not mine” Yaz grits out, she’s beginning to regret being charitable. 

Ryan just scoffs and awkwardly slumps into the passenger’s seat, pulling the door a bit too aggressively shut.

Yaz bites down so hard on her tongue she can taste blood.

The drive is one of the most awkward (even hostile) experiences of Yaz’s life. Even more awkward than in high school when she tried to kiss Sally Sherman at a party, only to have Sally throw up on her. And by the shade Ryan was slowly turning, tonight might also end with vomit on her.

Ryan huffs and hums moodily, the drinks are wearing off, and he feels sick. He fiddles with the radio, flicking between stations. Yaz grimaces as he plays a second of a song, before changing.

“Just pick one” she eventually snaps, and he stops on a top hits station. Yaz doesn’t recognise the song, but it has a poppy upbeat tune… the total opposite of the mood in the car.

“So, uh… how’s Graham?” Yaz asks nervously. It’s not small talk, she genuinely wants to know.

“Like you care” comes the expected response from Ryan, who has grown tenser, whether from feeling sick, or the topic, Yaz wasn’t sure.

“Ryan…” she laments.

A long pregnant pause falls between them. Ryan fidgets uncomfortably, and Yaz tries to keep her eyes glued to the road.

“Not great… if you must know” he finally says. Each word deliberate and slow, as if it pains him to say.

“Ryan I’m sorry…”

“Don’t” he cuts her off. And that was the end of that conversation.

Yaz pulls up in front of the familiar house. 10:37, the clock in the car reads, plenty of time to swing back and return the car to Dean.

She and Ryan hadn’t spoken for the rest of the ride. Partially because of Graham and partially because Ryan had grown increasingly pale and sweaty.

“If you’re going to throw up please do it on the side-walk” Yaz begs, watching as Ryan bolts upright from his slouched position.

The passenger door swings open, and Yaz can hear Ryan hurl his guts out onto the pavement. She prays none splashes up onto the car. She waits… impatiently as he continues to vomit. ‘He’s gonna need help to the door, isn’t he?’ she internally askes herself, already knowing and resenting the answer.

She begrudgingly walks over to his side, staring blankly at the puddle of vomit beneath him. Vomit does not compare to seeing a dead child this morning.

Ryan groans and spits on the pavement, the worst of it seems over. He wipes his gross mouth on the back of his sleeve and stares resentfully up at Yaz.

“Ryan?” a voice calls behind Yaz. Ryan peers past her to see Graham on the front steps in his Pyjamas and a dressing gown.

Upon hearing Graham Yaz spins around to face him.

He’s thinner than when she had last seen him, face gaunt and weathered. His hair is thin and short, almost a buzz cut of regrown hair.

He shivers in the cold, wrapped in a thick gown and wearing blue slippers on his feet. He looks from Ryan to her, shock painted across his face.

“Yaz?” he croaks, his voice sounds hoarse and weaker than she remembers. He shuffles towards them.

“Hey Graham” Yaz offers him an awkwardly tight-lipped smile, which Graham returns with a far too kind and genuine beam.

“And where have you been?” he gives Ryan a fitted yet caring look.

“Out?” Ryan tests.

Graham just sighs and moves past Yaz to give Ryan a hand. They both struggle. Ryan is too drunk and sick to support himself and Graham’s thin arms shake weakly trying to lift Ryan’s weight.

“I can help” Yaz offers, slipping a shoulder under one of Ryan’s arms. Ryan shoots her a look of distain, but quickly stops when he sees the angry look Graham flashes him.

“Thanks love” Graham nods as they lift Ryan away from his vomit puddle.

They all make it to the door in one piece. No more vomiting or bickering.

“Want to come in for a cuppa?” Graham offers Yaz as they get Ryan through the front door.

“Oh, thanks… but I really should- “

Graham’s face flashes briefly with disappointment and Yaz feels like she needs to clarify.

“Oh no, not because I don’t want to, see I’ve borrowed a mate’s car and well I need to go return it” she rambles, gesturing towards the Mercedes.

“Excuses, excuses” she can hear Ryan’s muffled mutter from somewhere inside the house. She ignores him and turns back to Graham.

“Really, I have to go” she confirms again “it was really good seeing you though, maybe another time, yeah?”

He smiles sadly at her “We no longer have all the time in the world Yaz”. His words cut deep into her. He isn’t trying to guilt her into stay, but the reminder, the time they have now is limited.

“It was lovely seeing you too Yaz” Graham says, taking her hand in his. His smile is warm, but his hands are cold and seem smaller. She feels a lump forming in her throat. She doesn’t deserve him being so kind to her.

She wants to snatch her hand away and run. But she shakily cups his hand holding hers and squeezes it.

The tender moment is broken by a loud noise over-heard. A sound similar to a jet turbine, screams across the night sky. The pair look up and see a fiery inferno, barrelling down in the distance. It disappears beyond the horizon, but they can hear a muffled crash and a flash of light ignite and travel up into the air.

Something had fallen from the stars.

Looks like Dean wasn’t getting his car back for a while…

* * *

“Now fellas I can explain” the prisoners blurt out, her hands up and a look of insincere guilt across her face. A group of guards circle her, guns locked on and ready to fire.

“How did you get in here” a guard demands, ramming her in the stomach with the butt of his gun before she can answer.

The prisoner drops to the floor, gasping and wheezing for breath. There is no relief though, as the guard swings his leg forward, kicking her with such a force she rolls onto her back.

“Yep… that’s a broken rib or two” she coughs. Some specks of blood drop back down onto her face.

‘Uh oh, that’s not good’

“How did you get in here” the Guard roars, towering over her, his gun now in her face.

“Would it help me in any way if I promise not to do it again?” she shrugs up at him.

The butt of the gun slams down into her face. There’s a loud crouch and she see’s stars.

“How did you get into the warden’s office?” he growls.

“Ohhh…tha wha it says?” she slurs, eyes blinking slowly trying to get the darkness out of them “I taught it sas cell 2655… silly me”.

The next hit to the face lets the darkness win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Chapter 2, let me know what ya think :)


	3. A Message From the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is a bit shorter, been super busy lately

Chapter 3 - A Message From the Stars

“Doctorrrr….” A man’s voice whispers in her ear.

The prisoner twitches and whimpers in her drug induced sleep.

“Doctor” he purrs again, the last R rolling off in a hiss.

“No…” the prisoner slurs, eyes squeezed shut, sweat forming across her crumpled brow.

“Know they burned because of you Doctor” he snarls, all teeth and venom. He looms over her, more shadow than man, but the glint in his eyes in unmistakable.

“No…” she groans again, tossing and turning on her small prison cot.

“The timeless-“

He doesn’t get to finish, as she wakes up screaming.

* * *

“Was that…?” Graham stops short as he stares dumbfounded at the night sky. In the distance smoke billows over the line of houses.

Yaz doesn’t reply, staring just as shocked as Graham.

“What the hell was that noise?” Ryan gasps, stumbling back out onto the porch. He looks pale in the moonlight, still not completely sober.

The trio stand together, watching the smoke climb higher and higher into the air.

“Was it a plane?” asks Ryan a look of horror on his face. Yaz is worried he might throw up again.

“No” answers Yaz, stepping down off the porch. She strides with a newfound purpose towards Dean’s car.

“Hey!” Ryan calls, as she walks away from them.

“Yaz wait up” Graham, follows, carefully treading down the steps, puffing a bit at the sudden use of energy.

Yaz sighs in frustration as the pair bumble towards her.

“We are coming too” Graham says, already opening the passenger door of the car.

“Um no you’re not” Yaz says copying Grahams matter of fact tone. But the older man doesn’t budge and soon Ryan has hopped into the car too.

“This is police work, no civilians, if a plane has fallen from the sky-”

“We both know that wasn’t a plane love” Graham cuts her off. “Who’s better to deal with this kind of stuff than us?” he adds knowingly.

“And what kind of stuff is that” Yaz grits out, relenting to sit in the driver’s seat, but not start the engine just yet.

“Alien stuff” Graham nods.

“Alien stuff? This isn’t a game Graham. This isn’t like some adventure with The-” she can’t finish the sentence; she swallows back a heavy lump and grips the steering wheel tight.

“I know it’s not the same, but think about it, what would she do?” Graham asks looking between Yaz and Ryan.

Yaz’s knuckles grow paler as her grip tightens.

“Jump in headfirst without hesitation?” Ryan offers with a hint of a nostalgic smile. Graham returns his smile and gives an assured nod of affirmation.

“Yeah well we aren’t her” Yaz interjects. It comes out more bitterly than she intended, burning off her tongue like poison. Graham looks at her sadly. She turns away, unable to look at his pitiful eyes.

“Well from the looks of it you were about to charge headfirst over there” Ryan chides “and yeah this isn’t like old times, don’t think I ain’t forgotten that”.

Yaz spins around to snap back at him, she’s had enough of his attitude, but Graham places a hand on her shoulder before she can.

“I think we should get going” he adds “who knows what we might be dealing with”.

“You say that dressed in a dressing gown and slippers” Yaz sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was used to efficient professional investigations now. Not an old man in his PJ’s and a drunk ex mate.

“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting an Alien space-ship to crash down right after my evening cuppa, now was I?”.

* * *

Yaz is surprised they make it there before anyone else does. Dean must be fuming; it was 15 minutes past 11.

It took them a while to follow the smoke, the ship had crashed a lot further away than they thought.

“Blimey” Graham breathes in shock at the sight before them.

In the middle of an empty field in an enormous crater of upturned earth, lies the remains of a large space craft. It was much bigger than the TARDIS, more on the traditional side of sci-fi ships. The kind you would see in movies. The grass around the crater is scorched, some parts on fire, but not nearly as large as the fire roaring from a mangled thruster. That was where the billowing black smoke was pumping from.

“Shit” Ryan hisses next to her, she looks over to see him stamping out a small fire near his foot.

“Should we take a look?” Graham asks, gazing at Yaz. He gives an expectant look, as if she is in charge and knows what to do.

“Yeah” she replies without much conviction. She’s hesitant, not sure of what to do. Part of her want to leave, she had spent so long getting over everything. She just wanted to have a normal life and forget about the past. Now in front of her lies an alien ship, a piece of a life she’s tried to leave behind. Graham is already walking towards to crater, not seeming to have noticed her reluctance. To him the ship was a chance, it was hope, to do something more in his life, before his time runs out. He didn’t want to forget the past; he was ready to embrace the next adventure laid out for him.   
Ryan followed in tow, hovering protectively behind Graham, but like Yaz seemed more hesitant and reserved. He flashes a concerned look back at her and nods his head forward.

‘Are you coming’ he asks silently, and she feels herself unconsciously moving forward towards the scarred earth.

They barely make it down the bank of the crater when suddenly… a man appears from behind one of the ships wings, he sprints towards them.

“RUN, TURN BACK, RUN” he yells at them, as he pelts towards the trio “ITS GONNA BLOW!”

The three can hear the engine rumbling louder, as the fire and smoke seem to grow and engulf the ship. Yaz instinctively reaches out to grab Graham and Ryan’s hands, practically pulling them along with her. The man rushes to them, helping push Graham out of the hole. “LET’S GO, LET’S GO” he shouts in a distinctly American accent.

They barely make it to the car, when they hear a roaring boom. The heat from the fire engulfs the field, Yaz is sure if they were any closer, they would have been fried. The shock wave of the explosion knocks them off their feet. The group hugs the earth as the fire rips into the sky and sends debris flying. They can only close their stinging eyes and hope none of the debris hits them. Yaz hears a loud smash and even with closed eyes she knows a piece has flown through Dean’s window. Another smaller explosion goes off, and another wave of heat swamps them. They stay flat on their bellies for a while, in case the explosions aren’t over. Yaz can taste ash and soot in her mouth and can feel the damp grass soaking into her business clothes. The stranger is the first to sit up and survey the area. He rolls over with a grunt and a sarcastic chuckle, that sounds vaguely familiar. Yaz cracks her eyes open, they sting from the heat and ash. Beside her Graham lets out a wheezing cough and she can here Ryan crawl over to him.

“What a rush” the stranger laughs out loud. He lets out a whoo, and hops to his feet.

“Sorry about that” he adds, and extends a hand down to help Graham, who is still wheezing.

“I know you!” Graham gasps as he takes the man’s hand.

“Silver Fox!” the man exclaims with a beaming smile of perfect white teeth.

“You’re… You’re The Doc’s friend… Jack” Graham recalls as Jack pats him down, wiping the soot off Graham’s dressing gown.

“Fetching gown, Silver” Jack smirks and Graham offers a bashful smile.

“Wait a minute” Ryan and Yaz call out at the same time. They flash each other fleeting uncomfortable looks at the jinx but turn back to Jack.

“What are you doing here?” Yaz asks beating Ryan to the punch.

“I’m actually here to see you… well all of you” he states, finally taking on a more serious tone. The trio look at him with confusion.

“Us?” they all say and again there is shared discomfort at the synchronicity between them.

“Who else would I be here to see… well one other person… well a few, not all of them are strictly business…” Jack rambles “but that doesn’t matter, I am here because you are friends of The Doctor and she needs your help”.

A silence washes over the group. Jack is meet with three stony faces staring back at him.

“Okay let me try that again” he sighs “The Doctor. Needs. Your. Help.” He says each word very slowly as if talking to a child. He lifts his arms up at the end expectantly, but the trio continue to stare back at him.

“Sorry is this a bad time?” Jack asks, a hint of frustration in his voice as he drops his arms.

“That’s not funny mate” murmurs Ryan, a hint of a threat in his tone.

“It’s not a joke” Jack retorts back, stepping closer to the group, his bravado gone. He looks at each of their faces, taking in their pale and unreadable expressions.

“She’s dead” Yaz calls in an emotionless tone. Out the corner of her eye she can see Graham nodding solemnly.

Another pause falls over them, no one moves or says anything. The only noise is the soft rumble of the dying fire behind them.

Finally, Jack lets out a soft chortle, that soon turns in an uncontrollable laugh. He’s bent over slapping a knee as the trio stare in disgust.

“Oi mate” Graham snaps, glaring at the laugh man, how dare he laugh about this.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… it’s just…” he pauses as more laughs overtake him “The Doctor…dead?”. He lets out a snort and laughs again.

“The Doctor isn’t dead” he pants eventually regaining control over himself, wiping away tears from his eyes. “She’s never dead!”

“But she does need our help” he says now serious.

“But, she… she” Yaz rasps, not quite believing what she was hearing. The air around her seemed to be getting thinner. She was having trouble breathing.

“She’s alive, but imprisoned, has been for a very long time” he answers grimly.

“Who has her?” Graham enquires, immediately wanting to take action.

“ON YOUR KNEES NOW” a voice cuts through the field and suddenly blinding spotlights surround them. People dressed in black with drawn weapons surround them and a helicopter blares into view.

Black trucks and vans revv across the field towards them.

“ON YOUR KNEES” the voice demands again through a loudspeaker. The group drop down and put their hands behind their heads, as a group of militia dressed men circle them.

“Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for” Jack mutters as a soldier points a semi-automatic in his face.

“No kidding” Graham grunts as they are roughly patted down for weapons.

“Clear” one of the men calls over a radio and one of the vans roll closer. Out steps a woman, flanked by two masked soldiers. She strides across the field with an aura of power and control. She finally stops in front of them.

“Jack?” she asks, her powerful appearance faltering for a moment.

“Martha Jones, it’s been a long time”.

* * *

“Will it hurt?” the child asks her mother, who smiles kindly down at her.

“No, my dear it won’t hurt” the mother reassure her child “It will be like going to sleep”.

“But I hate sleeping” the child whimpers, eying the implement in her mother’s hands.

The mother strokes the child’s hair softly “Close your eyes” she whispers.

The child lets out a shuddering breath and squeeze her eyes shut.

Mother lied. It was nothing like going to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review or any suggestions for other fics. I was thinking of writing a high school AU as well if people are keen, so let me know.


End file.
